


The seats go down

by misslonelyhearts



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Car Sex, Drabble, Ficlet, M/M, the nomad - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 08:48:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10486908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misslonelyhearts/pseuds/misslonelyhearts





	

“Do they now?”  The ridge above Jaal’s left eye raises a fraction.  
  
“She’ll be an hour out there, at least.  Just saying.” Liam drums his fingers on his knee. “Might be more comfortable.”   
  
“Yes, she does seem to forget that the Initiative has equipped her with mining drones,” Jaal mumbles.  He sighs and tugs off his gloves.  “Perhaps gathering rocks by hand. . . relaxes her.”   
  
The look on his face is, Liam’s learning, calculated openness.  Body language, he’s learning too, is a little harder to get entirely right.  Jaal’s mouth twitches up at the corner when he’s joking, but also when he’s annoyed, crossed arms mean the same to angara as to humans, but crossed ankles mean something else.     
  
Jaal shifts a little lower in his seat, knees splayed, hands resting high on his thighs.   
  
Liam surreptitiously tracks the shape of him, large and languid in the Nomad, the fused digits, hands loosely framing his groin.  Then, he squints at the jungle outside where Ryder’s already long gone in the overgrowth.  “I don’t think she knows how to relax, mate.”   
  
Ryder knows.  Jaal’s got to see that, right?  She knows he’s been trying to get this for a while.  Jaal, alone.  Has to be the reason she took them off-road in paradise, after warning Liam not to manage his feelings like a crisis.       
  
_Just lend me Sam’s data on him, heart rate, blood flow, that kind of thing. So I can be sure._   
  
_Heyo, no way.  That’s one path you’re finding on your own._   
  
Then she’d flashed him finger guns and told him to trust her, that Jaal was, in her opinion, “like a cat with cardboard box.”  Into him.  So, she made with the manufactured alone time.   
  
But on Havarl they’re never fully alone, everything from the thickly tangled vines to the pink moon seems to have eyes on them.  Liam doesn’t mind.  Feels about right.  He can respond here, pretend they’re on holiday instead of ducking busybodies on the Tempest.  High above the vehicle some kind of animal coos, long and mournful-like.   
  
After a bit, Jaal’s voice cuts the tense silence.  Or makes it worse.   
  
“So.  You want to get. . .comfortable. . .with me?”   
  
He sounds. . .husky.  It’s alright, isn’t it?  Liam wets his lips and can’t look right at him, not yet.  Angara have a subvocal, too, not turian-rich but it’s there.  Liam’s chest reverberates with it sometimes, in close quarters like this, his skin susses it before his brain can.  When he glances over, Jaal is unclipping his monocle, eyes steady and clear on Liam, before his hands drift down to unfasten the safety harness.  He pauses, buckle in-hand, almost shy, if Liam’s reading his smile right.  “It’s a beautiful night for it.”   
  
“No doubt,” Liam replies, throat tight as something wild titters through his belly.  He taps the door locks and reaches across Jaal’s lap for the recline button.     
  
In a heartbeat, he’s been gripped, pulled, guided until his knees spread and tuck in on either side of Jaal’s hips.  It takes a minute more before they kiss, like staring at each other is another idiom to get translated, and Liam’s so ready that he moans when their lips touch, and again when their tongues do.   
  
“Do you. . .also?” Jaal says against his mouth.   
  
“Do I what?”   
  
“Like the seats, do you go down?”   
  
Jaal laughs only after Liam does.   
  
“Find out, right,” he says, still snickering, rolling his hips, ducking his head to hide the heat climbing his face.  He nuzzles Jaal’s throat and whispers, “May want the harness back.”   
  
Some body language is unmistakeable. Jaal is no exception.  He hauls Liam up to his mouth again, planting his feet on the Nomad’s floor so he can arch up, spread his knees wider, and draw Liam’s twitching hips even deeper against his own.  He growls something in shelesh that Liam doesn’t catch, tongue following teeth on Liam’s jaw.  It’s cramped, a difficult ride with a lot of unfulfilling friction, so Liam slows down, panting as he concentrates on unzipping his jacket.  Thankfully, they’d done the armor swap.  He knows where Jaal’s fasteners are.  This hadn’t been why he’d done it, but he’s damned glad for it now.   
  
“You are. . .confident.” Jaal stretches beneath him, and Liam has to close his eyes or he’ll come just from the sight: The dark V of his thighs around Jaal’s waist, Jaal’s hand crossing it to stutter up and over Liam’s fly.  When he blinks he finds Jaal reaching for his face.  “I find it . . .you. . .extraordinary.”   
  
They blush blue, angara, or purple.  He figures he’ll find that useful in a minute.     
  
“You too.”  Arm against the headrest, Liam dives for a slower kiss, pulling hard for that color just under the surface.   
  
Jaal’s hands are the good bit, large and heavy, proper big  _mitts_ , cupping the back of his head and pressing circles low on his spine.  He’s humming, even.  But, not with his vocal chords.     
  
With Jaal’s mouth on his neck Liam can tell the sound, the feeling, isn’t coming from there.  A tickling, static hum, like an open comm or a beacon before the pulse.  It’s hot, an all-round tease  that makes Liam harder somehow, but warnings start to beam through his brain fog.   
  
“Bio-electric energy.  I forgot,” he mumbles to himself, swears and pulls back.  “Hey, you’re not going to shock me or anything, are you?”   
  
Jaal shrugs and his lips purse.   
  
“A little, but you might like it.  Do you burn easily?”   
  
“You’re joking.  You are, have to be.”  He could take it, maybe. Worth one helluva strange visit to T’Perro.  But Jaal’s chuckle means he won’t have to.   
  
“Yes, I’m joking.  What you’re feeling. . .it’s a buildup.  It means. . .you’re making me very happy.”     
  
_Happy?_  He draws his teeth over his lower lip.  Good to know.   
  
Another kiss and Liam can’t help himself.  He sits back again.   
  
“What happens when it goes off?”   
  
“What happens when _you_ do?”   
  
Angara value honesty in everything, a trait Liam finds super helpful and extremely awkward in equal doses.  Still, it’s liberating.     
  
“A little mess and a lot of relief.  Hopefully,” he says, exhaling. He runs a hand across his hair, shooting a smile down at Jaal, who returns it. “And, yeah, happy all around.”   
  
“Messy and happy.  Hmm,” Jaal murmurs, and Liam feels that biostatic thrumming bright and hard from him.  He traces Liam’s fly, making him groan. “Let’s see.”


End file.
